![]() ![]() ![]() It was an odd mix of awesome and horrible. For me, finding that level of solace means usually means I go running to music.Īnd if there's any one album that can do all that for me, it's the lone release by the fondly remembered New Wave synth pop duo. I'm looking for something to lift my spirits, refill my happy tank, and put a big, dumb smile on my face. I don't want to sit in the bathtub, praying my cat does me a solid by knocking my George Foreman grill into the water, anymore. All of the craziness and chaos, at both a personal and global level, have put me in a mindset that you could charitably call "gloomy".Īnd I'm tired of it. I fear where the world is ( probably) going. I despair about where the country is ( not) going. I worry about where my career is ( not) going. Like Eddie Murphy in Bowfinger, I've been barely keeping it together for the last several months. But when it's all over, it's very rewarding. It's a painstaking process, sometimes even a painful one. Normally I get really into the process, listening to the music on repeat as I vomit words out of my head, with the intention of revisiting them later and rearranging and massaging everything until my whimsical reminiscences make some sort of sense. I dig down deep into my soda-brined brain, dredge up a bunch of memories, and wrap them around an album or song that rocked my world back in the day. Even though this is a dinky little column that gets a tiny amount of notice out there in the wilds of the Interwebs, I put a lot of effort into crafting these four-to-five page strolls down memory lane, articles that hopefully entertain, inform, and (if I've done a really good job) even make the reader think a bit. And “True Life” pulls off the stereo clanging again but pairs it with a break bit, over which Brown raps kind of like Beck in the early Nineties.I've been sitting here for about an hour now, staring at this blank page, trying to find an "in" for this week's featured album. “Everyone’s Crushed” finds Brown varying the phrase “I’m with everyone I love, and everything hurts” (also “I’m in love with everyone and everything hurts” and “I’m with everyone I hurt and everything’s love”) over more noisy guitar loops that don’t quite match up with the rhythm. “Out There” begins with funky bass and ascending synths for a good minute before Amos starts squalling his guitar and Brown speak-sings a string of single syllable nouns and verbs: “track, give, dive, slack, drag, draft, mud, scram.” Does it mean anything? It’s hard to tell with the guitar jumping between your ears, but the effect is fun. This chaos frequently works in the duo’s favor. It’s disorienting (literally … they sing, “West wind left to bounce” with more trills) and they even quote Sting’s “Fields of Gold” before the whole thing approximates the audial experience of melting. Keyboards stutter aimlessly, then they sigh, and then Brown exhales drolly right along with them: “I just wanted to pray for the rain.” Seems harmless enough, but then Brown’s counterpart, Nate Amos, who handles all the instruments, starts trilling his keys at the beginning of “Barley” and Brown, who uses they/them pronouns, starts singing about counting mountains. It’s the secret ingredient that made their covers album, 2021’s Somebody Else’s Songs, so enjoyable (Brown enunciates every lyric of Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” dorkily-on-purpose and sings No Doubt’s “Hella Good” sorta off pitch), and it’s also what made Structure, their 2021 album of originals, strangely endearing.Īs with their previous records, Everyone’s Crushed opens up like its own universe. ![]() That vague insincerity is an acquired taste but once you’re immersed in it, it can feel almost charming. Since forming in 2016, Water From Your Eyes have paired noisy yet winsome music with winky, tongue-in-cheek lyrics that Brown delivers in a way that can sound at once sweetly innocent and slightly devious. “When was the first time you heard the word ‘saccharine’?” singer Rachel Brown asks, sounding a bit like a tired Beat poet, on Water From Your Eyes’ jazzy song, “Remember Not My Name.” Like practically every lyric on the avant-pop duo’s Everyone’s Crushed – at least the ones that don’t read like free-associated stream of consciousness poetry – Brown’s question could be taken ironically. ![]()
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